


Draco's Eggs

by MayLaNee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Dark Crack, Dark Magic, Easter, Easter Eggs, Eggs, Gen, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Second Year, Metaphysics, No Beta, Not Beta Read, POV Draco Malfoy, Pantheism, Philosophy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29988558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayLaNee/pseuds/MayLaNee
Summary: Of course Draco is disturbing his potions class. He's literally 12.Then he is popped out of Reality and interacts with something VAST and ANCIENT, and then he understands..?This is somehow an Easter story.To the Muggle reading this: This tale contains nonsense of such vastness that it needed extra batteries. Feel free to ask questions, I might be inspired to answer them in-fic.
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just having a laugh here, and I have no idea when this will be updated because it depends a bit on whether anyone can be bothered to read it.  
> Warning for pretentiousness. Tags will be added when they apply.  
> When I do something truly horrible I'll give a trigger warning at the start of the chapter in question and a bold exclamation mark at the start of the sentence(s) that contains potentially triggering material.
> 
> Enjoy!

Draco stirred his cauldron, turned off the fire and chopped some of the gillyweed in tiny even pieces before adding them to the contents. 

Professor Snape glided by and looked in his cauldron, his face not betraying his opinion. “Mister Malfoy, I see you have taken some… liberties… with the recipe?” 

Draco gave a single determined nod. “Indeed professor,” he said as he stirred and watched the contents of the cauldron swirl peacefully.

“Would you care to specify to the class what you’ve done?” The question was drawn out and Draco could tell more people were looking at him. He didn’t mind. 

He scooped some of the cauldron’s contents into a spoon and tried it, looking Snape in the eyes. 

“Well — considering that I knew which ingredients were edible in what amount, I figured that it was time to use the package of Needle Noodles I’ve had for a while. Gillyweed is said to taste somewhat peppery when finely chopped, the lacewingflies add a good bit of structure, and then there is of course the salamander tail for a bit of bite, squid ink for drama and flavour... and… ” He distractedly looked around and then added some more ginger.   
“It’s quite good professor, would you like some?”

Snape could hardly contain his snarl. “Twenty points!” he bit, and then added almost under his breath “to Slytherin... For a truly extraordinary display of creativity…”

Draco smiled smugly, and his expression did not waver when Snape added “See me after class…” so softly that nobody but him could hear it. 

  
The noodles were shared among the Slytherin students who, of course, loved them, and Draco felt no reason to be concerned as he waited at the end of the lesson for Snape to say what he wanted to say. It would probably be something about ‘not pushing it so much in front of Gryffindors’ or something.

He was therefore entirely surprised when Snape disappeared into his storage cabinet and took an ancient looking scroll holder from it, about the size of Snape’s forearm.   
He placed it on the desk in front of Draco, who took a closer look at it. It seemed to be made of very fine porcelain, a fine blue craquelé marring the nearly slightly off-white material. Both ends were shaped like eggs, perched on delicately carved and painted nests of twigs.

“Open it,” Snape said, standing back and crossing his arms.   
Draco looked from it to him and back to the thing again, and licked his lips. He wasn’t sure what to make of this, he didn’t know what it was, but it looked very pure and delicate… It grated on his nerves to be confronted with something so… helpless. Carefully he drew his wand, though he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with it.

He looked up at Snape again, who blankly stared back. 

Draco reconsidered… looked back at the delicate scroll holder… and put his wand back up his sleeve.   
Without a second thought he then balled his fist and pounded it in the centre of the holder, smashing it to smithereens.  
Before he knew what had happened a bright light came out of it and engulfed him so entirely he couldn’t see the classroom anymore. It entered his eyes, mouth, nose and ears like a tingly fog, filling up his brain until he couldn’t tell where and who he was.

Then there was sight. 

It wasn’t that Draco saw anything in particular, but the nothingness he was now experiencing was visible.   
Gradually there was a sense of presence that made itself known to him as he was there, suspended in who-knew-what, and an unmistakable feeling of curiosity overtook him. 

It was not _his_ curiosity though... It was curiosity _directed at him_.

Draco was terrified. 

He had never been a brave boy and now, finding himself suspended in magical oblivion at the ripe old age of 12, was not the time to change that.

He was, however, also a wizard, and considering that his entire body appeared to be out of reach and that there was no temperature, no sound, just… _feeling,_ he decided to wait in a state of disembodied petrification for a while to see what would happen.

.

.

.

Nothing happened.

An unknown amount of time passed and some of his fear subsided, so ever so carefully, he started to explore the feeling of Curiosity.

_To whatever Muggle that might be reading this: ‘exploring a feeling’ is a mental ‘leaning’, a ‘flowing’ of the self, which cannot be described adequately in the impaired Muggle vernacular available at this time._

The feeling of Curiosity appeared golden in its sensation and reminded Draco of bundles of an infinity of strands, almost like the Needle Noodles he’d had but somehow more connected. Less organised.   
It was organic, it was insistent, and it was _old._  
Once its **AGE** had become apparent, Draco did not want to explore the feeling anymore. 

He wanted to go home. 

The feeling of Curiosity, however, allowed him to proceed… and Draco found himself unable to stop. 

His exploration poured into the Curiosity, entirely unstoppable, until he reached **IT**. 

**IT** was vast.

 **IT** was ancient.

… **IT** was limitless.

Draco’s magic was unable to reach any kind of restriction within the **VAST ANCIENT LIMITLESS CURIOSITY** and the sensation made him feel smaller still. His fear was not entirely gone, but it had subsided enough for him to feel some curiosity in return. Because the situation was still profoundly strange, he couldn’t help that the general sensation of a question travelled from him into the **VAST ANCIENT LIMITLESS CURIOSITY**.

 **IT** was amused.

Reality shifted and his head filled with the fuzzy chaos it felt when he bumped his head, the pain suspiciously remaining at bay for the time being.

 **IT** had communicated, but this INSTANTIATION OF MIND AND BODY AND MAGIC could not comprehend.

 **IT** communicated again, this time limiting itself to these three limited Aspects of Existence.

Draco understood.

_Again, to the inevitable Muggle reading this: You have no Magic so you consist of only Mind and Body. But an Infinity of things in the Infinity of Existence consist of an Infinity of other Aspects. Wizards get three. You get two. You don’t partake in other Aspects so you don’t comprehend them. It’s like having eyes of red glass and going ‘but everything is red!’ Of course everything is going to look red to you when the red light is the only kind you’re offered to process. It’s perfectly simple._

Draco’s Mind had dissipated so fully that it had been able to comprehend the full vastness of Existence.  
It imploded back to its previous limitations.

He was still in the Potions class room, shards of porcelain in the side of his fist, a headache swelling like a thunderstorm.

“…and?” Snape asked.

Draco turned to him, dully surprised that his body moved at his command.   
“I understand, professor.” He said, his voice distant.

  
Then he promptly fainted.  



	2. Chapter 2

Severus Snape had examined the shards of the scroll holder on the desk. 

The idiot boy had smashed the centre of its length yet its pieces lay in a circle, resembling a nest from which his fist had flown.

He hadn’t known what he had expected; Horace had informed him that there was a scroll holder that he should give to a student which had the benign insufferableness that made you want to fondly throttle them.   
Of course _preparing a meal during Potions class_ made one fulfil that condition. 

Regardless. Severus had expected there to be parchment with some motivational admonishments, a gentle written kick up the arse… He hadn’t expected the room to go DARK for a second, he didn’t know what the boy now understood, and he had a lot of homework to check.

…but he didn’t want Lucius breathing down his neck: The man was so full of himself that he was basically a wreath.  
_Just like his family tree_.

Perhaps Severus ought to take the boy to the hospital wing.

…yes, that seemed like a good idea.

* * *

  
Poppy Pomfrey had dismissed young mister Malfoy after healing the small cuts on his hand, because there didn’t seem to be anything else the matter with him.  
He had surprisingly not made a fuss, and walked into the wall beside the door in his attempt to leave.

It wasn’t until then that she realised that he did not have his usual haughty look, but that his gaze seemed fixed upon something beyond reality.  
And the boy had always drawled as he spoke, but he seemed _slow_ , distracted, unable to verbalise his thoughts…

Poppy could only hope that the Curse Specialist would soon have information about the shards of the suspicious scroll holder that the boy had shattered. Or perhaps Horace would have some more information… Severus and herself had written to him already, detailing the little bit of information that they had. 

Young mister Malfoy had only come to her Hospital Wing this morning, but already his parents had been summoned.  
  
They were dreadful, demanding people.

His father had spent less than five minutes by the boy’s side before stalking off to cause a scene in Albus’ office.   
His mother had seated herself on his bed, holding and petting his hand as his Slytherin friends ate the sweets that she had brought.

She asked plaintively whether the sheets were soft enough, whether he was in pain, whether ‘the nurse’ was taking good care of him, and so forth…

It had initially irked Poppy, but when the boy had responded with indifference it had begun to unnerve her.  
She touched her bun as she wondered whether she should offer him an Energising Draught to see whether she could restore some life to him, but decided against it. His symptoms were too difficult to pinpoint at this time, and she had no desire to be persecuted for ‘lethal incompetence’ and whatever else Lucius Malfoy had spat at her.

She focused her attention on her potions cabinet, having nothing more appropriate through which to channel her concern for her patient.

* * *

“You alright Draco?” Asked Vincent before shoving a cupcake into his mouth. 

Draco nodded, his mind blank, his gaze infinite. 

When he had first been slammed back into his life he had been overcome with the unbalanced dread of having missed a step on the stairs. Usually when that happened, he’d then gracelessly land his foot on a step that had a different distance from the previous one than he’d anticipated.

…but he Just. Wouldn’t. _Land._

For whatever reason he still felt imbalanced, uprooted, _not quite there,_ and the prolonged detachment made it impossible to focus. 

He didn’t belong here. 

Or rather — he had been popped out of his place in the world and he hadn’t been put back properly.   
He still remembered how it felt to have the **VAST ANCIENT LIMITLESS CURIOSITY** communicate with him though the event had been entirely impossible. 

And it wasn’t like he couldn’t feel his Mother hold his hand, it wasn’t that he couldn’t hear his friends’ voices, it wasn’t that he couldn’t smell, or touch, or think…

…but because he hadn’t been properly returned to his Self, none of it seemed real. 

It was difficult to focus or attach value to things when he knew they were an illusion cast over Reality.

He knew he was twelve years old. He knew his Mother had cried and his Father had been frantic. He knew he loved them. Factually he knew that. He just did not relate to any of these facts.

Things happened and he noticed, but because he felt as committed to them as he did to photographs of strangers he just sat there, waiting for something to click. Preferably himself.

* * *

Darkness came to the hospital wing, but instead of it being an absence of light, the shadows looked like Reality had become worse for wear.  
Feeling _something_ at the prospect of experiencing anything, Draco turned his focus to it.

The **VAST ANCIENT LIMITLESS CURIOSITY** radiated in all directions equally and Draco knew that he was noticed in the same way that one noticed a grain of sand while looking at a beach.  
In an attempt to catch ITS attention, Draco leaned his consciousness towards it. It took longer than previously to find any kind of connection but he had nothing better to do.   
Eventually ITS notice was on him, ITS acknowledgement, ITS —

…

It was gone.

Just like that.

Gone.

No longer did everything around him feel like a veil of deceit. Reality seemed real again.

There was safety in knowing that the **VAST ANCIENT LIMITLESS CURIOSITY** was no longer allowing him access, but there was a loneliness too. As if he had been abandoned in the middle of the ocean and the depths extended below him with unfathomable extremity, but they had put a sheet of parchment underneath him to shield him from the view.

The hospital wing was cast in the usual shadows of night, and he could see his Mother’s outline on the chair beside him. (His Father had threatened to sue the school on grounds of child abuse if she would have been made to leave.)

Finding himself in this strange bed in this room where the darkness wasn’t familiar made a loneliness seep into Draco’s bones, and knowing that his Mother had felt the need to guard his bed made him feel small and pathetic. 

…and the vast, impossible task ahead of him brought him no comfort.

“Mother?” he whispered, unwilling to disturb the night.  
  
No response.

“Mother?” he croaked in a small voice. Hearing himself made him feel exposed.

She didn’t stir and his lip trembled. 

He was afraid to move, scared that the **VAST ANCIENT LIMITLESS CURIOSITY** would reach him again.

…but what was he supposed to do?

Carefully he extended his hand, fearing he might reach through the fabric of Reality.

She stirred and mumbled something as he reached for her sleeve. When he felt the material under his fingertips, he nearly died of relief. 

* * *

  
“There was this big… thing… and it spoke to me but it had no words? It was bigger than everything! _Vast_ , and it did this thing… it spoke without speaking, and my magic went towards it and it sent it back and then reality — ”  
  
“Oh darling…” said his Mother.

.

“Reality was like a veil Father, there is so much behind it that we can’t see usually, but I saw it! And it was _everything_! And it spoke to me — ”  
  
“…so you’re intending to take Divination?” His Father asked with a grimace.

.

“But nothing was real! There was this old _big_ thing, and nothing else existed!”  
  
“But are you in any pain? Tingling? Flashes? Itches? Rashes?” Asked madam Pomfrey.

.

“But the world isn’t really there though, we just think it is because we’re in it.There was this old _big_ thing, and it’s everything, but we’re in it.”  
  
“Wow.” said Greg after a few seconds.  
  
Vincent looked at him and nodded. “Wow.” He said too.  
  
Pansy seemed more interested. “And then what happened?”

“I told you: the world isn’t really real. It’s one thing, everything is one thing, but we’re just people so we don’t usually get to see everything… But I did.”  
  
Pansy considered this as she dug in the bowl for a particular Every Flavour Bean. “…so are you a prophet now?”

Draco considered this.  
“…yes.” He concluded.  
  
“Yes, I am.”


End file.
